


working title eldritchstuck

by justifyingReality413



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Eldritchstuck, Multi, Other, Rating May Change, Rating for Language and Inappropriate Jokes, warnings in the chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24968893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justifyingReality413/pseuds/justifyingReality413
Summary: "I dreamt of a fountain, deep in winter woods[...] It opened before me and I walked into a temple, murals on the walls and mosaics on the floor, surrounded by statues[...] I stood in the center of the room and then, in the dream, I was beheaded without warning. I feel as though a part of me died in the dream[...]"Aesath Ninoie,A Treatise on [Redacted], page 3Executed for failure of belief, 12-10-████
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 6





	1. I know this dream. A road crests a hill-top, and the air is silver-bright -

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [(they flow from form to form)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208528) by [OtherCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat). 
  * Inspired by [Mother Daughter Storytime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/815709) by [Twilit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilit/pseuds/Twilit). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I dreamt of a fountain, deep in winter woods[...] It opened before me and I walked into a temple, murals on the walls and mosaics on the floor, surrounded by statues[...] I stood in the center of the room and then, in the dream, I was beheaded without warning. I feel as though a part of me died in the dream[...]"  
> Aesath Ninoie, _A Treatise on [Redacted], page 3_  
>  Executed for failure of belief, 12-10-████

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter include: dreams, unreality, the feeling of being watched, going through tunnels, religion, more of the feeling of being watched, statues, mention of sacrifices, also some stupid inappropriate jokes. ask me to tag things!!

Your name is Rose Lalonde. Presently, you are sitting in a lawn chair on your back porch, enjoying a nice cold cup of coffee as you work on your final project. Yes, it’s the end of June, school is already over, but you’re an overachiever by nature and your professor gave you permission to go above and beyond. (Not that you wouldn’t do so anyway.)

And then, unexpectedly, you fall asleep. You have enough good sense to save and close your essay, open a new text document, and move your coffee out of arm-flail’s reach before all aforementioned sense leaves you, and then--

Then you lie dreaming in the darkness.

\--

You know not where you are. It is, as you do know, beautiful-- a forest of birch trees bedecked in the glorious colors of a mid-Autumn mid-afternoon. All around you is rust and bronze and gold, a breeze gently stirring the leaves. It’s beautiful.

Just in front of you, a path begins, and you start to walk forward. It’s not entirely of your own volition, but you’re curious enough that you proceed with no protest. Yet.

The path is dirt and bordered with stone, entirely clear of leaves and debris. Your steps make no sound as you go deeper into the woods, the trees interspersed with evergreens the further you get. The odd birch or two keep their eyes on you as you keep walking-- you _must_ keep walking-- you _cannot stop_ walking.

And then, you catch a reprieve; you are in a clearing, sunless and shaded by the towering pines. There are no birch eyes here to watch you, and you come back to yourself in a way. Now that you’re able to freely move, you inspect the clearing.

It is a perfect circle, the center marked by a fountain. You walk all round its edge, finding nothing interesting besides it. Smiling to yourself, you reach into your pocket, as if you actually had dream currency--

And somehow, you do. You retrieve a coin, sides identical busts of a human male figure with horns. One side is scratched, blinding him.

You toss the coin into the fountain and the water ceases. The silence is deafening, and the noise of stone scraping against stone just as much. The fountain is pulled back, and once again you lose control of yourself and walk forward, down stone steps, into a tunnel. You have no choice but to proceed as the fountain slides back into place above your head.

The tunnel is lit by lanterns as soon as the fountain leaves it in darkness. The floor is stone. It’s tall, but narrow-- you can easily lay your palms flat on both walls at the same time. As you do, you feel something-- it looks like the walls have been decorated, painted and tiled murals, with images of people.

They do not look human, each given gray skin and horns. The spaces between lanterns each seem to tell the tale of one of them. The two closest to you, one each side, appear to have the same horns, but are different people; and the ones paired after them as well, and the pair after them. Looking at both sides of the tunnel, you feel the urge to walk, to proceed, and resist. You want to know what’s up.

The urge-- the _command_ \-- to move hits again, and you very nearly stumble. It seems you cannot stay, so you take note of the colors as you pass.

They are mirrored on each side, though as mentioned, the people are different. Rust, bronze, gold, _limutant̵̽̓ͅr̶͙̽̽ḛ̴̑ͅd̵̓͜͝l̴̼̋̐i̷͙̣̓̎m̷̟̖͆̄e̶͖͐̔r̷̗̙͗e̷͎̜͋̓d̶̲̣̔͌͝ļ̶̹̬͒̅̏̍̅i̷̡̬͓̲̅̕ͅm̶̞̭̙̀̆̓u̶̢͈͔̤̤͐t̶̞͖̃a̷̺̺͛͆͋̏͘n̶͖͕̝͂̃͒̾̍ẗ̷̙̳̹͕̲̈͑̐̾_ \--

What?

The thought refuses to stay in your head, and as soon as you pass the fourth pair by, it fades completely. The next pair is olive, then jade, then teal. Two that, were you a touch more pretentious, you’d call cerulean and indigo. (They are two shades of blue. You’re not the art student here.)

(You are quite pretentious though, and you could have simply called the olive and jade just “greens”. Cerulean and indigo it is.)

The following pairs seem to be given more space on the wall, as if they’re more important. They’re more detailed as well. Purple, violet, fuchsia. (Pretentious.)

They are the last, and the tunnel is bare the rest of the way. There is an arch, and you feel as though you are practically shoved through.

You step into a room. (What is there to say next? How do you describe what you feel?)

(You start with the room.) The room is a perfect circle. It’s large, too large for the tunnel and the fountain and the sky that you remember. How _deep_ did you go? Directly across from you, stained glass windows the same color and order as the murals help illuminate the room. How _far_ did you go?

The floor in here is tiled-- your half of the room is a simple semicircle. In the very center, another perfect circle. The half across from you is, and you’re beginning to suspect a common theme here, divided into twelve in the same colors and order as the hallway.

You are urged to step forward again. You blink, and-- you don’t know how you didn’t notice them, really. Dream logic?

There are statues, twelve of them. It’s the figures from the hallway murals, each pair’s traits combined into one statue.

From left to right, they are rust, bronze, gold. Your eyes and mind glaze over the fourth as they did when you walked past the single-statue’s pair of murals. Then there are the two green, the teal, the two blue. (They are olive, jade, teal, cerulean, and indigo, your brain supplies.) Then purple, then violet, and rightmost fuchsia. 

They are made of unrecognizable stone, their eyes inlaid with gems and their bodies clothed in silks. Or is that part of the stone, and simply painted? You can’t tell.

You step forward again, and again. And then you step too far, and you step forth no more.. 

You are in the center circle. It’s tiled black, not the dark grey of the semicircle behind you. The mosaics at your feet show this very room, the very circle you are standing in. 

You get the feeling you are being watched. (You kneel, and look down.) 

(There are grates amongst the tiles, though for whatever reason, you can’t think of. You can, and you don’t want to, think of it. You don’t need to. It’s laid out quite clearly at your feet.)

You get the feeling you are being judged. (You stay kneeling, despite the onset of dread.)

(Each colored slice in front of you is a different tale of tragedy, of what happens to the poor souls who walked the path you found yourself on. Whatever happens, happens, and is not in your hands. It’s in Theirs.)

You get the feeling you are found worthy.

\--

  
  


“So what am I reading here?” Dave asks, leaning over your shoulder. He stares at your laptop, dream transcript open, and reaches to steal your coffee.

You let him, turning your attention to correcting grammatical errors. (There aren’t many, but your sleep-typing skills aren’t yet as impressive as your ordinary ones.) “It was a dream I had,” you answer simply.

“Ancient murder-statues in the middle of the woods, judging you like pretentious hipsters?” He takes a long slurp, makes a face. “Are you sure all this sugar’s not going to your head? You could get type two from like one of these and I’ve seen you chug I think five a day once.”

You smirk at his diabetic joke and shake your head. “I’ll be perfectly fine. My brain will process the sugar in no time, with how frequently I exercise it.”

“Weird flex, but okay,” he starts, “and you should probably still stop writing that morbid shit.”

“Unfortunately, the fires of the lovely little vacation home that Christians call “Hell” haven’t frozen over yet,” you say, saving the document and closing it, re-opening your essay. “How do you like my coffee, by the way?”

He hands it back to you. “It tastes like Death’s pussy. The grim reaper’s fucking cloaca,” he answers, making another gross face.

You’d laugh, if you weren’t trying to sip it and type at the same time. “Exactly the way I like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first notes of this were 3 years ago i'm so glad this is postable now!  
> also dave is diabetic bc i am and i said so.  
> also if u know what the chapter title + publish date is a reference to you are gonna like some of the later chapters :D


	2. If I engage in an occult practice before I sleep, I might find the way to deeper dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was called by one of the Twelve in the temple below the trees, above the sea-- The [Redacted] spoke to me, smiled at me, and I felt comfort in their embrace[...] I knew that my heart and soul were both forfeit to The [Redacted], and that I would never be the same.”  
> Eianyr Grunaz, _Devotions to The Twelve, chapter 1_  
>  Death Penalty for multiple counts of arson (burning churches) in the greater [redacted] area, 07-15-████

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: dreams, clock noises, thoughts that are not your own, injuries, being watched, seeing things, time rewinding. if there's anything i'm missing please let me know!

The first week of July is just as warm as the last of June. Your academic projects complete, you have the time to focus on your other interests now. Namely, wizard fic. Sure, it might be odd to write fanfiction of your own mother’s series, but your other mother and your sister always leave you glowing praise.

Dave sits beside you in your favorite lawn chair, in warm clothes like the cold-blooded horror he is. He even thinks this weather is  _ mild, _ the madman! You type up a paragraph of Frigglish freezing as Calmasis calls it warm, and Dave simply gets up. He’s heading for your family’s stash of water guns.

This absolutely cannot stand. You put your computer in the waterproof electronics box Dirk insisted upon keeping out here, and rush after him.

Eventually, after the two of you came to a standstill just before Roxy ambushed you and wholly destroyed you both, you sit (favorite lawn chair reclaimed) with another cup of Death’s Cloaca Coffee. It doesn’t prevent you (not the hour it spent in the freezer, nor the fan on full blast, or the high-energy playlist you’re listening to) from succumbing to the heat and falling asleep. You pass out, and you dream.

\--

You are in the temple, still kneeling in the epicenter of the room where you had been judged Worthy. This time, you feel no such urge to move in any which way, and so you get up and turn around.

The arch you came through is gone; no entrance or exit for you whatsoever. It does, however, feel like you’re free to explore the room. You do so.

To be honest, not much holds or captivates your attention besides the statues. You don’t approach them from the center circle, no-- you feel as though that unwise move would be met with swift consequence.

Instead, you walk around. Outside. There’s enough plain stone between the tiles and the walls for you to feel safe as you approach the first of twelve.

You step forward, light streaming red in through Her window, and you hear the sound of-- tick. Tock. Tick tock. But there were no clocks in here, were there? Not that it matters.  _ You will soon wear out your welcome. _

That thought did not feel like your own.

In short strides you proceed through the pain in your legs and spine in the bronze light, the buzzing of the gold. You trip and nearly-- no, you do-- cut yourself on the fourth statue, and begin to bleed.

You don’t make it past the boundary between four and five before the ticking returns, and you find yourself walking backwards. Your flesh reknits itself. The buzzing, the pain, is gone. The ticking remains, seeing to guide your steps back to the empty wall missing its arch.

It seems it’s through the circle or not at all. You step forward. Immediately, you feel watched again, although this time, it feels less hostile. This time, you aren’t simply an intruder, an unfortunate dreamer who didn’t know what they were getting into.

(You start to wonder how many unfortunate dreamers were  _ not _ found worthy, and then, you stop wondering. You don’t want to know.)

Continuing on, you stop in the epicenter once more. Your curiosity about the room itself has been satisfied for now, and you turn your attention to the statues.

They are unchanged from last time; same order, same horns, same colors. Wait-- well, you weren’t able to tell what color the fourth one was at all last time, were you?

This time, the statue is painted entirely over with a sloppy coat of grey. As you step closer to it, the paint begins to peel; it reveals a coat underneath of lime, of red, of more grey; it keeps cracking and peeling open like an onion until you’re met with bare grey stone.

It’s odd, you think, that this statue has this treatment. None of the others appear to have more than one coat of paint, aside from the orange hues in their horns. The gems embedded in their faces, as jewelry, as eyes; those mostly match. (The twelfth one, the fuchsia, has a crown of gold and coral, necklaces of emerald and sapphire. The seventh one, the teal, has eyes of rubies and a grin of pearls.)

Except, of course, the fourth. As you look to the statue’s eyes, for a second, they flicker red-- and then, you blink, and they are plain grey. The peeling paint is gone, one neat coat the same color as the stone.

The clock ticks, and you rewind to the center. Your time is running out, and you can’t afford to spend all of your attention on the m̷̪̓u̵̠̩̐t̴͇̪̅á̵̫n̷̘̑̌t̴͓̝͑̋--

Wait, what? Your mind seems almost to glitch, your thoughts gone. You look over all the statues once more, and the indigo, the ninth one, seems almost to sweat.

Fucking weird.  _ You shouldn’t be able to  _ _ see _ _ as much as you are. _

The thought arises, unbidden, and you shake your head. What were you doing, again? You can’t focus on the small details.

Something tugs in your gut, and you fall forward on hands and knees as another thought arises.  _ You have to make a  _ _ choice. _ You feel that tug again, and it’s almost like you’re being called, being compelled, to step forward; in a split second you know that you  _ are, _ and by one-- maybe more? You can’t tell yet-- of Them.

You look up. Directly into the eyes of the sixth statue.

She (as She informs you) stands before you, tall and proud, with emeralds in her eyes and what looks like green goldstone as a necklace. Her horns, gilded at the tops, arc out above Her head like a halo, one’s tip quirked out like Her smile. She has the most comforting energy, more motherly than you’ve ever felt from someone who wasn’t literally one of your mothers.

She  _ calls _ you, and you step forwards, into the mosaics at the base of Her statue’s plinth. You approach like a supplicant approaches royalty.

You kneel before Her. You kneel  _ to _ Her.

Prayers fill your head, invocations and dedications to the Jade Sylph, to the Mother, to the Dolorosa, the Designer, the One who Walks in Sunlight.

The ticking starts again as you look up, and you can feel yourself beginning to awaken. But you keep looking at Her, and you would swear She smiles at you. You smile back.

\--

You awaken to the feeling of your hand being held, and then touching cold water. Dave, apparently, has placed a bowl below your lounge chair. You flick your fingers at him when he’s looking down, and he yelps.

Sitting up, you smirk, and dry your hand on your skirt. “I had another dream,” you say, and reach for your laptop.

“Was it more of the same shit?” Dave asks, closing his eyes as he dries off his shades. You nod, and open the text file where you’d typed up the previous dream.

Almost the second you’re done documenting this one, Pesterchum beeps with a message notification. Dave says it bloobles. Really, it’s funny how everyone you know describes it differently, you think, and you open the message.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

GG: hey rose!!

You grin, and begin to type a reply.

TT: How delightful. A

Dave peeks over your shoulder, and you swat him away. “It’s Jade,” you inform him, and he hums in response, pulling out his phone.

“I’m gonna go, John’s online too,” he says, and you nod. He stands, throws you a peace sign, and leaves. Exeunt, pursuing a bear-- well. Apparently John’s not yet hairy enough to count as one. The four of you had a good laugh about it the other day in a call, when Jade was showing off her flower garden in a video game.

Speaking of Jade, you should really finish typing and answer her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohoHOO LORE TIME also fuck i love jade harley so much ok?? also john TRANS. he is also diabetic bc i said so.


	3. I am stumbling over roots, now. It is tempting to drop to all fours, to avoid the low branches.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In my time with The [Redacted], I believe that I have seen three genuine miracles. The first was all the twelve's agreement on the punishment of a blasphemer; the second: the painted face of my lord himself in person; and thirdly, once in a congregation of my fellows, I saw one among us mock, defy, and argue with the gods to their very faces. To this day I do believe they still walk unpunished."  
> Astero Sashel, a letter to his cousin, page 2  
> Bled for paint (voluntary, in place of [redacted]), 03-25-████

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: food, dreams, unreality, being a robot, cults, mention of hp lovecrap, canon-typical piss jokes, sex jokes, bi puns. let me know if i'm missing anything!

Your name is Jade Harley. Right now, you’re putting together a sandwich as you wait for a reply from Rose. You would’ve messaged her sooner, but you only just now looked at your reminders when you were in the kitchen, so you grabbed your bread and fillings and a plate, and completely forgot your lunchtop in your room.

That’s why you have reminders! Back upstairs now, you spread a slice of bread with Nutella (because screw allergies, really) and set it on the plate. Pesterchum bleeps, and you grin, looking up at the “TT is Typing” indicator on the display.

And then you frown, as the notif disappears with no message. That’s weird, but you knew it was going to happen, so you busy yourself with the rest of your sandwiches before getting up to take the ingredients downstairs. Nobody else is home right now, and Bec is asleep in the backyard, so you can grab the leftover slice of cake in the fridge, too.

Back upstairs, you wait. You wait. You sleep a bit. You open your eyes to see no message, and wait. When your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you reach to grab it, you feel only cold metal but still see Pesterchum and Rose’s response.

TT: How delightful. A message from my favorite girl. What gnostic wisdom shall she bestow upon me today? 

You are not, in fact, Rose’s favorite girl. Because of course, you aren’t Jade right now.

You are Jade’s dreambot. Jade herself is too busy slumbering in golden halls, arguing with gods and monsters, for you to be her right now. This, however, does not stop a Jade  _ (but not The Jade, either of them, hehe) _ from answering Rose.

GG: oh nothing much really 

GG: just some stuff you might already know!! 

GG: have any interesting dreams lately 

There’s a moment of pause, and Jade, in her sleep, grins.

TT: Oh, might I ask why? 

GG: sure you can ask! :D 

GG: i just might not answer 

TT: I see. 

TT: Did Dave tell you anything? 

GG: oh, nooooo 

GG: but you did just now!! ;3 

TT: My own trick, used against me. 

TT: I adore you, Jade. 

GG: ily too!!! 

GG: but seriously though how was it 

GG: what did you see? where did you go?? 

GG: i mean to get there at least! i know you went to the temple because i felt you in there with me!! 

GG: and who called to you most bec i’m very interested in that part! 

TT: What do you mean, who called to me most? 

TT: Of the statues? 

GG: yeah 

GG: rose i’m so glad you know what i’m talking about, it’s so refreshing! 

GG: john doesn’t know SHIT 

GG: he hasn’t awoken yet! 

GG: and the others i can’t really feel in there 

GG: it can get irritating sometimes 

TT: I feel the same when mentioning things to my siblings, as well. 

TT: Although I suppose it’s different, considering my history. 

GG: yeah :(((( 

TT: Anyway. To answer your question, I was called by the sixth statue most. The Jade Mother. 

GG: ahhh how lucky!! she’s so nice, i mostly just get fussed at by mr mcrambleson 

GG: the l̶̬͒i̴̲̞͗m̷͎͋é̵̫͐ one 

Jade Harley sees this word in her dreams very clearly, but her dreambot’s fingers fumble. She sends the message true, and is not the only one with difficulty reading it.

GG: wait that probably won’t register for you sorry 

GG: i mean the grey one! or just the fourth?? it’s probably best to just wait on referring to him with a color 

GG: he can get pretty fucking irritable about it! but then again 

GG: he can get irritable about everything, you Know 

TT: I Know, do I? 

TT: I don’t think I do. You said he was the fourth, yes? 

GG: yup!! 

GG: i have heard from quite a few of them unfortunately 

GG: most of them don’t seem as nice as the designer! 

TT: I must be very lucky, then. 

GG: oh we both are!! they don’t call just anybody 

GG: i know there are more people in your town who’ve been called but 

The dreambot ceases typing as Jade herself begins to stir. She doesn’t wake yet, but in the meantime the incomplete message has been sent and replied to already.

TT: Oh? 

TT: Color me surprised. 

TT: I don’t think I’ve met anybody else who’s had dreams like mine. 

GG: no shit rose?? :O 

GG: i thought you would’ve met at least three of them by now!! 

TT: Where would I possibly have met them? School? 

GG: oh, you Know 

TT: Do I? 

GG: do you 

TT: Jade. 

GG: rose! 

TT: You might be one of the most frustrating people I’ve ever met. In a good way, of course. 

GG: thank you! i’d say the same to you but unfortunately shoutmaster 4000 and the scarred violet are tied for the frustration crown 

GG: in a bad way too :(((( 

GG: like okay four is bearable but eleven is just 

GG: ughghghgh X( 

GG: it would be better if he were actually mean bec then i wouldn’t feel weird about telling him to fuck off but he just seems lonely really 

GG: and i get that!!!!!! bec i didn’t meet you guys until i was ten and then you know 

Jade does stir this time, and the dreambot stills.

TT: I do know. 

TT: Maybe I’ll tell him to fuck off, then. 

GG: no it’s okay he just needs friends really 

GG: i’m pretty sure he and four were friends before at some point??? 

GG: or something like that 

GG: time feels wrong in the temple somehow 

TT: Do you mean the ticking shit? 

GG: oh that happened to you too? yeah kinda 

GG: but also just in general 

GG: i hope dave wakes up soon :((( 

GG: i know john will be last though!! 

TT: Oh? If you don’t mind my asking, how? 

TT: More of your dream clouds? 

GG: rose you know i’d never mind you asking me anything 

TT: You know, when people dream of golden showers, it’s typically not a dreamland of magic vision-clouds and rain. 

GG: kjsghkjdaghkjghdfl 

GG: oh i know that rosie dear ;3cccc 

GG: but yes! the clouds told me 

GG: showed me, i mean 

TT: Of course. 

TT: Did they show you how long it will be until I meet the first member of this… 

TT: I hesitate to call it a cult, but really. 

TT: It does seem like something otherworldly, something eldritch, out of a penny dreadful novel. 

TT: Or one of the Horrendous Prick Liar’s stories. 

GG: lmao 

GG: you’re right tho it does feel like that minus the bigoted shit 

TT: Doesn’t it? 

TT: A mysterious town near the sea, ancient and beautiful temples, creepy mindfuckery? All we’re missing is eldritch things with too many limbs and eyes and mouths. 

GG: no we’re not 

GG: i mean that’s what that purple folder is right 

TT: ... 

TT: Whom, might I ask, enlightened you to that fact? 

GG: besides you just now?? i mean dave who else rlly 

TT: I’m going to pour my coffee over his shades when he sleeps. 

GG: ajhgakjdsg rose no omg 

GG: don’t waste caffeine like that especially since it works for you :((( 

TT: Good point. 

GG: plus he’d probably just send me more and you know it 

GG: or send it to john 

GG: deities forbid he sees any of the shit *you* have saved ms lalonde!!! 

GG: mx lalonde?? idk what you prefer i know you mentioned something about it though 

TT: Ms. Lalonde is fine for now. I do like the sound of Mx. Lalonde-- it makes me sound like a mystery writer living in a castle somewhere. 

GG: i mean yeah 

GG: you kinda are right?? 

TT: I don’t live in a castle. 

TT: Not yet, anyways. That is a life goal of mine. 

TT: I just live in a weird old mansion for now. 

GG: i know, dave sent pics 

GG: it looks cool as fuck!!!!! 

TT: Agreed. 

GG: i don’t think i’ve ever been to that one before 

GG: but from what i’ve seen it looks close enough to the forest that you could probably find the entrance to the temple!! 

GG: if you’re not scared of visiting it irl 

GG: i know i’d be :P 

There’s a pause, long enough for Jade to wake and make her way to her bed proper before falling asleep again.

TT: How accurate a blow, Ms. Harley. You've hit me right where it hurts. 

GG: thanks i try 

TT: I don’t know when I will get the opportunity for some exploration, though. 

TT: Nor where particularly I’d be going. 

GG: that’s why you should uh 

GG: oh, you Know 

TT: Jade. 

GG: go find the others in person!!! 

TT: Ah. 

TT: Wherever shall I find them? 

GG: rose i can’t directly answer that and you know it!! if the clouds wanted you to know what i know then they’d appear for you 

TT: I suppose. 

TT: I want to know as much as I can about everything that interests me, though. 

GG: yeah! that must be why you were called by who you were 

TT: The Designer, you mean? 

GG: kinda!! 

GG: oh btw you live with your whole family right? 

GG: you and dave and roxy and dirk? 

TT: Yes. 

TT: Along with our mothers, some weird dead shit in bottles, and a metric fuckton of cats. 

TT: Roxy won’t stop making them. 

GG: omg 

GG: has she ecto’d up any dogs yet??? 

TT: I don’t believe so. 

GG: aw :((( 

GG: i like cats i guess but on the kinsey scale of 1 to 6 if 1 is loving cats and 6 is loving dogs then i’m a fucking 15 

TT: I must be a negative 15, then. I do hope our friendship will not suffer? 

GG: nope it’s too late!! :3c 

TT: And yet you make the cat face emoticon.

TT: Are you quite sure you don’t love cats? 

GG: oh noooooo you’ve tricked me!! 

GG: i must be infected by the cat-loving bug 

TT: Well, you know. 

TT: I do love the pussy. 

GG: SJHGKJDSHGLJSDHG i knew you were gonna say that!!! gayass 

TT: Bi-ass would be more accurate. 

GG: biased bi-ass 

TT: I love you. 

GG: ily2 rose!! 

GG: anyway 

GG: you do live with all of your family right?? 

TT: Yes. 

TT: How is that relevant? 

GG: they’ll need you to be there for them the first time they have the dream 

Right then and there, your front door opens and you wake up. “Jade?” Jake calls. “Can you help bring in the groceries, pretty please? Or keep Becquerel from getting into them?”

The dreambot moves on its own back into its charging box, and you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. There’s no answer from Rose yet, no typing indicator either.

GG: i gotta go, jake needs help w Bec 

TT: Monster dog. 

TT: Devilbeast. 

TT: Dave would add “stinky boy”. 

GG: shshshsh rose Bec is a good boy!!!! he does not deserve your mockery 

GG: but yeah he does kinda need a bath though XP 

TT: Stinky boy. 

GG: yeah 

GG: i will talk to you later, rose!! go get some more coffee ;3 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] has ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \-- 

You don’t explain what you meant by that last line. How could you? You don’t even really know yourself! But you are absolutely sure that Rose will find what she needs if she does so.

You’re sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gogd i fucking LOVE JADE HARLEY  
> also i'm. obscenely proud of biased bi-ass holy shit.


	4. Is it hair that brushes my face, or hanging moss? I bend low, to stay close to the earth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Today I met another one of us, affiliated with the Twelve, in person. They were marked, I think, by the [Redacted], you could see it in their eyes. Too, too bright to be normal[...] I’m worried they will think we are blaspheming and conspiring against the others.”  
> Shaena Ziesat, a letter to Sehmet Rhotah  
> Perished (manticore bite) in gladitorial arena, ██-██-████

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: ominous foreshadowing, canon-typical cat body horror, minor character death (mentioned), child abandonment? (mentioned), talk about food, bad sunburns, possession?, panic attacks
> 
> lemme know if i'm forgetting anything, as always!

Your name is Dave Strider. Right now, you’re on your phone and headed to your room after talking to Rose. John’s status is going from online to idle to online to rancorous to idle and offline and back again, flipping through statuses like you flip through words. Guess you won’t be actually hearing from him anytime soon, damn.

You turn your phone on vibrate and shove it in your pocket, closing the door behind you as you enter your room and flop onto your bed. Weirdly for July, it’s so much louder inside your house than outside-- okay, actually, considering the god-fearing number of cats your family (read: Roxy) has, that might not be so weird. You like it, though. It’s infinitely better than silence. Or before.

There’s a scratching noise and a meow at your door, speak of the devil. You get up and open it enough to let your favorite cat slip in. This one has three eyes and two tails, and is the forty-seventh one Roxy made. She’s your absolute favorite.

Forty-Seven leaps up onto your bed and sits down right where you were. It’s her bed now, you guess, and sit on the floor, reaching up to pet her. She purrs and bonks her head against your hand, grabbing onto it with her paws and you could fucking cry, you love cats. You’ve been blessed by the god of cats, the one Roxy jokes about dreaming about.

Actually, you’re less sure that she’s joking now, what with Rose’s dreams. Both the new ones and the ones from before. You hope Roxy’s ecto shit hasn’t made the god of cats angry.

As you think about cats and ectobiology and definitely not about silence and the before, your hand stops moving and 47 stops purring. She bats your head, and you start petting her again on autopilot.

Well, fuck, now you’re thinking about the before. When you first moved here, you were ten years old. It was a couple of weeks after your birthday, actually, and the first time you’d seen snow, real snow, in your life. Some old fucker had died and left the place to one of your moms (Anne, Roxanne Lalonde Senior that is. Roxy’s Roxanne Junior) in his will. Not to disrespect the dead or anything, but he was a fucking shithead as you’d learn later. Leaving Jade alone for so long and so often-- you wouldn’t be able to bear that. You couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely, how quiet that would be. You’ve never been more than 20 minutes away from at least one of your family members in your life.

To be specific, your ecto-biological siblings, and your DNA-givers. Ecto shit’s wild. Roxy tried to explain it to you once. You scan in multiple samples of organic matter, and combine their genetic codes to make either new shit or clones. 47’s a weird ecto clone. You’re a weird ecto clone.

Apparently 20-something years ago your DNA-givers came here, scanned themselves with the ecto machine in the basement, and made you guys. Your moms, and your two dads. The one you resemble most died before you popped out, and the other one-- you haven’t seen him since you were in the singular digits. The before.

The buzz on your leg makes you almost jump, and 47 hisses. “Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, and get up to let her out of your room. You send an apology prayer to the cat god, just in case, and check your phone. It’s John.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

EB: hey dave! i saw you were online.

EB: i have been waiting to talk to you all day!

You grin. After a moment, though, it’s too quiet in your room, so you grab your earbuds and play one of your jams.

EB: dave?

TG: oh hey dude

TG: sorry i was zoned tf out

TG: didnt notice your message there

EB: oh, okay. well any ways!

EB: have i sure got some news for you. :B

TG: oh shit

TG: good or bad

EB: good!

TG: hit me with it then

TG: lay it on me like a fucking weighted blanket

TG: whats new

You didn’t put your jam on loop, so it ends after only a minute (and 43 seconds to be specific). Then you start up your John playlist. It’s mostly just weird goof shit you two make up together, but it’s happy and feel-good and bouncy and you like it.

EB: so all of you live down in lolar right? in oregon?  


EB: we are all moving there!  


EB: all of my family, i mean.  


EB: jade showed us all the pictures you sent her of your place.  


EB: it's very cool! spooky, but cool.  


EB: our new house looks smaller than yours, but it will be big enough to fit all of us.  


EB: i'm so excited to live together, jade and jake are too far away.  


EB: and we will be in the same town as you guys!  


TG: oh shit  


TG: yes  


TG: hell yes  


TG: hell  


EB: fucking?  


TG: fuckin  


TG: fuck thats my line john  


EB: >:Bc  


TG: anyways hell  


TG: fuckin  


TG: yes  


TG: thank you for letting me finish it  


EB: of course!  


EB: we will be settling in before school starts, so expect to see us in person by august!  


TG: egbert school starts in september in oregon  


EB: oh, weird.  


EB: august is still before september though!  


TG: aw shit youve discovered my evil plan to switch up the month names  


TG: im gonna make october the 8th month again  


TG: whatll you find next  


TG: my secret asmr channel where i change all the clocks to weird times  


TG: and like boring times not cool times like 420  


EB: haha, nerd.  


EB: i would listen to that though!  


TG: john i love you  


EB: aw, thanks dave. i love you too.

You screenshot Pesterchum.

EB: any ways, we'll be in the same town as you. we already bought the house.  


EB: i would send you the address but i don't trust you to not toilet paper it.  


TG: john id fucking never  


TG: rose wouldnt either  


TG: roxy wouldnt tp it but shed leave you a cat or three  


TG: theyre like fucking zucchini  


TG: or the years according to smash mouth  


TG: they dont stop coming and they dont stop coming  


EB: dave oh my god.  


EB: i'm going to tell jade to grow some zucchini so we can leave it in your backyard.  


TG: jonathan dont you dare  


EB: :B

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] is now an idle chum! --

TG: aw fuck  


TG: man im serious dont give jade the opportunity to commit garden warfare  


TG: like shell actually do it i believe in her  


TG: she could feed an entire fucking village singlehandedly but id rather she not jack beanstalk my house into the sky  


TG: thats a bad metaphor but you know what i mean

You sigh, and then you hear a knock on your door. 

TG: actually brb

Getting up, you open the door enough to see Mommanne (yes it’s a stupid portmanteau but it fucking stuck like superglue) with a smile. You take out one earbud. She asks you go go get Rose, because she’s making spaghetti, and fuck yeah you say you love spaghetti and she smiles again and disappears down the hallway.

You put your earbud back in and head to the last place you saw Rose-- out on the back porch with her fucking Death’s Cloaca coffee. (If it’s actually named that you’ll chug a full one.)

She’s on the best lawn chair, zonked out again. Her arms are starting to sunburn, and you grab the bottle of sunscreen that you keep outside. “Rose, wake up,” you say, and drop it in her lap. “Mommanne’s making spaghetti, get up.” You wait for a response, and don’t get one.

“Rose, I don’t wanna do this, come on.” You smack her arm, right on the sunburn, and beat a hasty fucking retreat well out of armflail distance. She grumbles and yeah, that’s a certified Lalonde Armflail. She’s still asleep, and rolls over. The sunscreen falls out of her lap, and she moves again-- no, she’s still asleep, what--

She turns to face you in her sleep, and her eyes are glowing beneath their lids.

“What the fuck,” you whisper, “what the fuck what the fuck, holy shit,” you continue, stepping closer. You know there’s a trick, to help her wake up, but you don’t you can’t remember it right now and now your music’s fucking stopped and her eyes open.

You stand, frozen in fear as she-- or whatever's wearing her body-- looks at you, through you, and then closes her eyes, turning over and going back to sleep. You abscond post fucking haste.

Now you’re alone in your room again, sitting on your bed with your back against the wall. The sword you haven’t touched since high school is on your left side, laptop on your right. You have your heavy-duty headphones on and your heavy-duty beats playing.

They stop for a second and Pesterchum bloobles, and you almost jump out of your skin. You let your playlist finish, and close your eyes.

Rose will be pissed at you when she’s back in her own mind, won’t she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter and the next practically wrote themselves in one big pesterlog i did at 4 am fjhgadkl  
> also can you TELL i like johndave. can you  
> 
> 
> **advance warning for next chapter: detailed descriptions of syringes/needles!**


	5. In the dream, I close my eyes, and walk, stumbling, bruising my feet and knees.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have seen the phenomenon you are describing in person now as well. It’s not as terrifying as the punishments I have seen the Twelve assign[...] And let them think we are conspiring. We know the truth, don’t we? If [redacted] will not wake up and See, then we must [redacted].”  
> Sehmet Rhotah, a letter to Shaena Ziesat  
> Perished (manticore sting) in gladitorial arena, ██-██-████

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: needles/syringes/shots, weird ectobiology things, talk about food, canon-typical butt jokes, canon-typical piss jokes. let me know if i'm forgetting anything!

Your name is John Egbert, and you’re on your way downstairs. You wouldn’t normally get up and interrupt a conversation with Dave, but your dad did remind you to do your bedtime medicine. And to check your number, because you hadn’t for a while.

You get your glucometer, and you check your number. Your record for doing it is thirty seconds, and you know it’s accurate because you had Dave time you. First, you wipe off your finger with an alcohol swab, and dry it as you get a test strip and put it in the meter. Then you get your poker and make sure the lancet’s new, and poke your finger. You squeeze out a drop of blood and press it to the test strip, and you’re done!

You sigh. Diabetes really sucks, though. You pack up your meter and wipe your finger clean again, and get your shots ready.

First, you do your weekly testosterone. You get a fresh alcohol swab and wipe off the top of the bottle, then grab a T syringe and the two different needles it requires. One to draw out the T itself, which you open and attach to the syringe; and the other needle to inject it.

You draw out the T, switch out the needle, and wipe your leg clean. Testosterone is supposed to go into the muscle, but your endo gave you permission to do it sub-cutaneously. You inject, then put the needles into your sharps container and wipe your leg clean again. 

When your endocrinologist first met you, she was absolutely shocked by your lack of a belly button. That’s normal for people who were made with ectobiology, though, and there have been more and more people like you ever since Jade’s grandpa’s stuff was published within the last fifteen years. Not the trans part, or the diabetic part, you mean. The ecto-biological part!

Then you do your long-term insulin. You do this every night, and it’s always the same amount. This one’s in a pen, and you have to attach the needle like you do with T. It’s a different type of needle, and there’s only one of them. You turn the bottom of the pen to where it’s marked one unit-- you have to do this every time to make sure the needle works. It works, and a drop of insulin forms on the tip of the needle. Wiping it off, you draw up the correct amount and inject into your stomach.

You do your actual correction shot of insulin last, since you don’t want your number to go too low overnight. The insulin syringes have needles attached to them already, so it’s the easiest one to do. You just have to calculate the units to correct for your blood glucose number, to get it back into range, and then you have to draw up the insulin and inject.

Which is what you do! You tell your dad you’re done, and he nods approvingly and wishes you good night.

Back up in your room, you don’t go to bed yet. You sit back down at your computer and message Dave. He’s sent you more messages since you went downstairs.

EB: i'm going to tell jade to grow some zucchini so we can leave it in your backyard.

TG: jonathan dont you dare

EB: :B

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] is now an idle chum! --

TG: aw fuck  


TG: man im serious dont give jade the opportunity to commit garden warfare  


TG: like shell actually do it i believe in her  


TG: she could feed an entire fucking village singlehandedly but id rather she not jack beanstalk my house into the sky  


TG: thats a bad metaphor but you know what i mean  


TG: actually brb i hear mommanne calling me

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum! --

You laugh, and reply.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] is no longer an idle chum! --

EB: i did not actually do it.  


EB: my dad just wanted me to check my number and do my meds.  


EB: guess what it was, btw.  


EB: dave?  


EB: oh, are you checking yours?

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is no longer an idle chum! --

TG: hey  


TG: and no i was checking on rose  


TG: she has the actual nastiest sunburn like fuck her arms are more red than my words  


EB: oh, gross.  


TG: also was your number 420  


TG: or 69  


TG: if its either of those ever you legally have to tell me  


EB: it was 260 >:B  


EB: go check yours.  


TG: k  


TG: 93  


EB: go eat something?  


TG: ill get some aj in a sec yeah  


TG: its probably just low from the stress of nearly getting armflailed  


TG: did you do a shot  


EB: already done!  


EB: oh, speaking of shots and snacks and all, my dad and jane's dad were talking on the phone earlier.  


EB: they want to have a big party when we're moved in, and have you guys over.  


TG: what  


TG: why didnt you start with that holy shit  


TG: wait did they already call the moms  


EB: they might have! i'm not sure.  


TG: ill inform them post fucking haste  


EB: what if they want it to be a surprise, though?  


TG: fuck  


TG: i didnt think of that  


TG: christ but a wholeass meal though  


TG: with cooking and baking from mommanne and the dads crockbert  


EB: that sounds weird.  


EB: dad egbert and dad crocker. and maybe from my nanna.  


EB: and jade and jake's grandma, too. we'll have to ask her.  


TG: oh shes scary though  


EB: not as scary as jade’s grandpa was, though.  


TG: yeah  


TG: anyways  


EB: yes, any ways!  


EB: i did message jade to ask what she's going to grow in the garden she inevitably makes.  


TG: did she say zucchini  


EB: no she did not answer! she said she was too busy telling rose to get more coffee.  


EB: which was weird. she usually doesn't like coffee?  


TG: oh god  


TG: so rose started drinking this fuckin sugary mess  


EB: wait, really? i thought she didn't like coffee.  


TG: tbf this doesnt even count as coffee  


TG: like nobody in their right mind would want this shit  


TG: like if your blood sugar was fuckin 2 and you took a sip of this shit youd have a number in the 500s in seconds  


TG: wait you like sweet shit like this dont you  


EB: only sometimes. don't you only like coffee if there's less sugar in it than your number?  


TG: yeah  


TG: diet soda is where its at too  


EB: yessss. my favorite is diet pepsi.  


TG: john  


TG: jonathan  


TG: coca cola cherry zero  


TG: jonathan middlename egbert  


EB: it's just john!  


EB: no jonathan, no middle name.  


TG: wack  


TG: didnt your dad throw a hissy fit about that actually  


EB: yeah. well, the opposite of a hissy fit. he wanted me to have a cool long name.  


EB: he went silent for a week and just baked.  


EB: and not actually just cake? like cookies and pies and stuff, too.  


EB: they were good, but tasted guilty.  


TG: understandable  


TG: well just john if he makes any cake for the party ill be all over that so you dont have to eat any of it  


EB: thank you, dave. :B  


TG: no way i wouldnt be all over that mans cake  


TG: that mans got excessive amounts of cake like damn  


TG: id make a joke about it running in the family but im not sure you two are biologically related and i havent seen your nannas  


TG: so the joke wouldnt really work  


EB: dave. first of all, what the fuck?  


EB: and we are related a little bit, but ecto biologically.  


EB: nanna adopted him so she is not related to him, but she did use some of his blood to ecto biologically make me?  


EB: and apparently poppop crocker did the same thing with jane and jane's dad.  


EB: but my nanna also said that we are almost identical copies of them, as in her and poppop.  


EB: so i guess your joke works? kind of?  


EB: sorry, i just ended up confusing myself.  


EB: why are you joking about my dad's butt, any ways?  


TG: im bi next question  


EB: why are you joking about my nanna's butt?  


TG: im bi next question  


EB: oh my god.  


TG: winks  


TG: slurps apple juice  


EB: haha.  


EB: so are you guys going to accept?  


TG: john just john no middle name egbert why in fuck would we not  


TG: especially with an offer like that i mean  


TG: mommannes cooking  


TG: baking from your family  


TG: damn its like the gods decided to piss in my aj and call it holy water  


EB: oh, gross!  


TG: winks with the other eye  


TG: but yeah we are  


TG: lemme go tell the moms abt the crockbertocalypse  


EB: cool, i'll tell my dad you guys said yes.  


EB: i will talk to you more tomorrow!  


TG: hell yeah see ya <3  


EB: goodnight dave!

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] has ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

You close Pesterchum and turn off your computer, like you usually do before bed. Dave really does say he loves you an awful lot, doesn’t he? He’s your closest friend, that’s all he must mean by that. Okay, Jade is probably your actual closest friend, but she is related to you and doesn’t count.

You lie down in your bed and close your eyes and definitely do not think about all of the hearts and love words that Dave has sent you ever.

You do not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am Trans i am Diabetic i am SELF PROJECTING TM  
> and yeet here's the latter half of the aforementioned pesterlog! johndave good.
> 
> also: the boys are both wrong. diet dr pepper is where it's AT
> 
> next chapter the pov will be back to rose! expect more new faces :D
> 
> edit: forgot to mention, this week (aug 2) i am taking a break week to write more buffer chapters!  
> another edit, it'll be later this week but ch6 Should be up this week


End file.
